


The enemy of my enemy is my...?

by Fnorpan



Series: An altmer's struggles across Skyrim - Female altmer Dovahkiin [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Sexual Content, Smut, unlikely lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 23:44:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7075561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fnorpan/pseuds/Fnorpan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She is the Stormcloaks unlikely rising star, despite her altmer herritage and he is a nord, Skyrims High King to be. It's only a fling... Right?</p>
<p>Took a break from my usual series to finish up a requested story. The elf is mine (lvl 85-90-ish). One-shot. Ulfric x Female altmer Dragonborn. Smutty and maybe even concidered a tad fluffy.</p>
<p>Enjoy!</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Picture? Here: http://fnorpan.deviantart.com/art/Iniethe-Altmer-Dovakiin-612613942</p>
            </blockquote>





	The enemy of my enemy is my...?

Fort Snowhawke had been won and it all went down without losing a single man, granted a few had been badly injured but injured was still better than dead. Ralof had been proud and the soldiers giddy but Iniethe didn't feel like celebrating at all. Mainly because she as usual had been tasked with the _honor of_ trudging all the way back to Windhelm to report to Ulfric, and she really didn't like it. Even if the Jarl seemed to have somewhat accepted her after the battle for Whiterun, she always felt something was off around him. Like her mere existence irked him. And maybe that wasn't all that odd since she was an altmer after all, but it was annoying.

Then there was the problem with the incessant racism around Windhelm. It didn’t seem to matter that she was both a prominent Stormcloak and the illustrious Dragonborn, people still acted with suspicion and loathing around her. Not to mention their petty attitude towards both dunmer and argonian’s. It was worse in Windhelm than anywhere else in Skyrim and there were only so many times she could get away with beating people to a pulp for stupid behavior.

Unfortunately she knew Ralof would hear none of her complaints or objections. He would only insist she be the one to do the reporting since he held firm to the belief they wouldn't have made it this far without her.

So here she was, mask of neutrality in place, with just enough boredom showing to piss off that obnoxious steward of Ulfric's.

The speech the Jarl made was mostly lost on Iniethe though. All she wanted after a week on the warpath was a bath, some food, mead and a good night’s sleep. And as a result she only listened with half an ear while Ulfric yammered on about this and that. Iniethe hardly even registered her own mechanical acceptance of a glass battle-axe as a prize for her service. Her mind was a million miles away, pondering the potential dishes served at the Candleheart Hall. And it wasn't until she noticed the hall had gone quiet that she mentally shook herself out of her daydreaming about venison-stew and Black-briar Mead.

The blond Nord on the throne he had cocked a questioning eyebrow at her. Probably wondering why she once again seemed less than impressed with the glorification of the battle, her part in it as well as her rewards. People always seemed to have trouble with the fact that she didn't grovel at the Jarls feet like a sniveling pup, every chance she got.  

"What's next?" The Altmer asked curtly behind her mask of absolute neutrality. Pointedly ignoring the glares coming her way from more than one Nord in the hall. She listened intently to her next orders and with a short ' _Understood_ ', she turned to leave for the Inn.  

\--

Well into the night she was enjoying a mug of Black-briar mead at the Candleheart Hall when a courier came bouncing up the stairs of the inn. He stopped at the top of the stairs and swept his gaze across the room until his eyes locked onto Iniethe. He smiled as he walked up, polite as ever while handing over a letter sealed with wax but without an insignia. Didn't know the sender he said when asked and so Iniethe thanked the courier, pocketed the letter and emptied her mug before making her way to the room she rented. 

She didn't want or need any prying eyes over her shoulder when opening a letter of mysterious origin. There was no telling from whom it came or what kind of secrets or orders was written in it since she did belong to some really shady guilds as well as being champion for more than a few Daedra.

She opened the letter, read it and frowned.

 

_"Is my offer not even worthy of an answer?_

_/ Ulfric"_  

 

Iniethe ran a thin golden tanned hand over her messily side-braided black hair and sighed at the implications. Of course the accursed Nord would take it as an insult that she hadn't jumped eagerly on chance to purchase the property he had _oh so graciously_ allowed her. Jarl Siddgear of Falkreath had been the same and she knew there was no way out. She could try and claim she had no money for it, but considering Ulfric knew she was Dragonborn, that she was named Thane in almost all major holds and had money like grass, she doubted he would even remotely believe her. 

Instead of stripping down to crawl under the thick furs in her rented room, like she had planned to, she hoisted her greatsword back onto her back, corrected her circlet and stomped her way back to the castle. 

She shoved past the grumpy soldiers and went straight to the Stewarts chamber, knowing full well he would be sleeping yet fully intent on waking the sourpuss. She roused him by gruffly calling his name and throwing a huge coin purse in his face. Then she harassed him until he begrudgingly signed over the house, complete with cleaning and furnishing before stalking her way towards the war-room, without so much as a 'thank you'. 

The Jarl however, was uncharacteristically not in the war-room and Iniethe found herself rather baffled that the man actually slept during the nights. Though frustrated and tired as she was with the ceremonial crap that came with pleasing high ranking Nords, Iniethe didn't even bat an eye before stalking her way up to the Jarls private room.

He was curled on his side, facing away from the door when Iniethe entered. She muttered to herself that she too could have been sleeping now if he had not been so petty. Ulfric stirred when she carefully closed the door - to keep the guards from rushing in to save their Jarl - but he wasn't yet awake which gave the altmer the sadistic pleasure of stalking quietly up to the bed and roughly shake some life into the man.

No more had he opened his eyes before she pushed the signed deed to the house under his nose. 

"Happy?" She asked harshly, not even bothering to hide her annoyance behind her normal mask of neutrality.

The Jarl half sat up in his bed, leaning on one arm as his pale storm-blue eyes slowly focused on her. And when they did he didn't even acknowledge the deed to the house as he stood up in front of her with an ever growing smirk. Ulfric was as tall as Iniethe was - she was short for an altmer - but he was broader, had more muscle-mass and was attractive by many standards. A fact painfully obvious since the man wore little more than his loincloth at the moment.

"Very happy." The jarl purred as he stepped into the altmer’s personal space. She warily tried to step back to regain what she lost but the Jarl was already capturing her by her narrow waist and in the process of drawing her in for a kiss. She wasn't sure what in oblivion was going on but every thought of the deed and house evaporated from her stunned mind. She stood stiff, in shock and unable to protest as Ulfric claimed her lips in a soft, searching kiss.

This wasn't exactly what she had in mind when she begrudgingly decided to please the Jarl. 

Ulfric's nibbling of her lower lip finally brought him the reaction he had sought. She responded to his kiss, with fervor. The awkward stiffness in her body melting away as her arms twined themselves around his neck. Two thin but impossibly strong, golden hands nestled themselves in his sleep-tousled blond hair and she invited him to deepen both kiss and touch. With a low rumble of satisfaction Ulfric’s nagging doubts about the mer’s interest dispersed and he enthusiastically took what was offered, ravaging the warrior’s lush bronze-tinted lips while getting to work on her ebony armor.

One by one the pieces of armor fell to the floor. Gauntlets, pauldrons, chest- and backpiece. And when the last piece of Iniethe's upper-body armor fell she allowed the Jarl to push her down onto the bed, mesmerized by the man's passionate kisses and nimble touch. She kicked off her boots as her bottom landed on the soft mattress and she watched in slightly stunned curiosity as the Jarls expertly released the clasps to her thigh pieces. A sigh of relief escaped her lips when the heavy armor was all gone. Finally her body could both breathe and feel those big warm hands of the Nord now roaming almost freely over her slight body.

The Jarl's hands caressed their way under her tunic and when his fingers connected to the fevered skin of her lower abdomen she shivered. The touch sending pleasant sparks of anticipation throughout her body, making her crave more.

Impatient as she was by nature, the slow build was driving her to the edge of sanity and in her annoyed hurry she all but yanked her thin tunic over her head. Ulfric face split into a wolfish grin but he didn't hesitate to relieve her of both leggings and loincloth before chucking his own smallclothes. He relished in the sight of her golden body crowned with raven-black hair as he crawled, kissed and nipped his way up her shins and thighs. His hands always roaming a little ways ahead of his mouth until one came to a rest at her breasts while he supported his weight with the other. He took his time kissing his way across her taught golden stomach while working to please her rigid nipples with his hand. His efforts drew unashamed, wanton moans from the altmer that felt like music to his ears.

When his lips finally closed around one of the writhing warrior's nipples, she gasped at the sensation to her already hyper-sensitized skin. But Ulfric didn't linger. He softly drew a nonsense pattern around her nipple before flicking his tongue over it and left to spread a trail of kisses on his way to her other breast to repeat his action. Only this time he gave it a nip at the end that had the elfs back arch of the bed with a surprised cry that morphed into an outdrawn moan. He huffed a husky chuckle as he continued his journey across her chest, nipping her clavicle on his way to her slender neck where he could feel her pulse racing to the beat of his own. He nibbled the sensitive skin just below the elfs ear, heard her groan in appreciation and felt her buck up against him as he kissed along her sharp cheekbone to claim those enticing almost bronze-colored lips. 

The altmer's hands, that had been roaming the Jarl's back, shoulders and sides while he explored her body, now nestled themselves back into the Jarl's blond locks and pulled him into a bruising kiss. Their tongues immediately seeking each other out to spar as they swallowed each other’s grunts and moans. Both of them wanting more but neither feeling like yielding to the other.

Ulfric pushed his hand between them, searching out that tantalizing heat he felt emanating from the altmer's core and as he found his prize he groaned along with the mer. The slick heat left no doubt's about the womans willingness and it made his length ache with anticipation. He didn't want to rush though, he had waited so long for this and wanted to explore every inch of the being that had haunted his dreams since that day she stomped into his keep demanding a chance to ruffle the Thalmor’s feathers. He smirked at the memory and sighed as he let his fingers slip past the altmer’s slick folds, plunging deep into her core before seeking out that special spot at the apex of the warrior's toned thighs.

He watched her eyes go wide as she cried out in pleasure, her head throwing back while she held on to his shoulders for purchase. Two long golden legs snaked around his pelvis and with a roll of her hips she tried to urge him on. Together they soon found the perfect rhythm. The Jarl alternated between rubbing the mer’s pleasure-nub and slipping his fingers inside her slick heat all the while ravaging her swollen lips and golden skin.

He felt her becoming erratic, her breathing harsh and her moans urgent, almost desperate. But he couldn't wait any longer, it was physical torture to hold back even a moment more and he prayed she would forgive him for his impatience as he slipped his hand from her womanhood. She groaned in exasperated annoyance, scowling at him with those piercing silvery eyes.

He kissed her, softly at first, as a means to apologize but it turned demanding as he felt her respond with furious passion. He let his length slide against her folds in a silent question, hissing at the slick hotness he found there and the elf let out a pleading moan against his lips urging him on with a grind of her hips. He needed no more convincing as he pushed carefully against her folds, felt them give way as inch by inch her core engulfed him in that welcoming burning heat that had his pulse racing like a rampant horse. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest it was a struggle to breathe.

The golden mer was rocking her hips beneath him, meeting his thrusts in eager earnest as he bottomed her out and he realized their kiss had broken. Both of them now only occasionally nibbling each other’s lips in between their gasping, moaning and panting. Too preoccupied by their own lust to really focus on much else.

He calmed his thrusting and took a moment to really look at her as he trailed his fingers along her feature before cupping her sharp cheek.

She was beautiful. Her black hair now loose from its braid and spread wildly around his pillows, her golden limbs passionately tangled in his own and those big, slanted eyes now half-lidded in arousal. He never could get passed those eyes, even though she belonged to a race he harbored a deep burning hatred for, and would gladly see wiped from the face of Nirn. But her silvery eyes, rimmed in copper that shone like the most brilliant of stars had haunted him since he first saw her.

And right now, he realized, they were pleading with him.

Ulfric allowed his mind to get lost in the pleasure once more, rocking his hips against hers, meeting her in an ancient old rhythm that was their passion and within moments he could hear the altmer's breathing become erratic again. 

He picked up his pace and felt her follow eagerly. Her entire body was begging for more, pulling him in and constricting around him. The fingers of one of those thin but impossibly strong hands, clasped firmly on his behind, urging him on while her legs had him locked in a vice grip. His lips found hers again, stealing a deep kiss before he drove into the woman hard enough to make her ricochet off his pelvis.

One hand held his weight, the other one slim leg of his unlikely lover and his mouth busied itself around the neckline of the mer as he started chasing his high.

The mewling of the woman beneath him was becoming synchronized with every snap of his hips and he could feel her already tight walls clench around him more often as he drummed into her. He heard her moans getting louder, morphing into passionate cries and he felt himself inch closer to the end. He desperately wanted release but at the same time he didn't want this to end.

He tilted his head to catch the warriors bouncing nipple with his mouth and found his ego pleasantly stroked as the woman gasped out a surprised cry at the added sensation. He sucked and nibbled while thrusting into her hot, tight wetness that had his head spin. Through sheer force of will he staved off that burning feeling in the pit of his stomach and focused on the mer.

She was writhing between the thrusts, angling herself for friction against the nub at the apex of her thighs and her breathing was becoming a ragged mess of whining moans tangled with cries of passion. He drove in with no remorse and bit her nipple a little harder than usual. _"Sink or swim_ " he thought and felt a swell of pride as the action had the desired effect of slinging his partner over the edge of her release. The sound of his name slipping past those full, red-tinted bronze lips to bounce around the room had his heart soar and his head lose its equilibrium. Curling himself over the beautiful altmer, resting his head in the crook of her neck, he buried himself deep inside her warmth and let go.  

The release swept through him like a tidalwave, blanking his head of everything except her. Her scent, her touch, her voice. And when he again became coherent he happily kissed her lips as he came to a content rest at her side, pulling her into a lazy but blissful embrace.

Iniethe was too tired to argue.

\--

She awoke in the early hours of the morning feeling a bit sore from the night’s activities. God’s she had missed sex. She found herself snared in a tangle of intertwined limbs and snickered lightly at the disgruntled sounds of her unlikely partner as she tried to get lose.

“I need to go. Troops to bolster and milk-drinkers to kill and all that.” She grinned impishly at the blinking Jarl before nimbly jumping off the bed to use the washbasin.

“By Talos. You really do sound like a Nord.” the Jarls gruff voice rang teasingly over the room as she washed off. It wasn’t a bath but it would have to do. She couldn’t come out of the Jarls bedroom reeking of sex. It would stir up too much trouble if it got out that the future High King of Skyrim had bedded an altmer of all people.

“I’m guessing that’s not a bad thing?” She inquired while wringing out the washcloth.

“On the contrary…” the man’s voice sounding more clear now when sleep had been shaken from his head and she felt two strong, warm arms go around her waist from behind. The Jarl rested his bearded chin on her shoulder and nuzzled against the sensitive skin of her neck. It startled her. Sex was one thing, something she knew how to deal with. But this? This was intimate on a whole different level and she wasn’t quite sure what to think of it.

Ulfric and many of his kinsmen with him, hated her kind with a passion, and even if she hated the Thalmor with equal fire, she was still and would always be an altmer. Someone who would never be fully accepted into Skyrim no matter her achievements and commendations. And Ulfric was to be High King - if she had any say in the war. He couldn’t seriously be thinking...? No, she decided. He was much too practical for that.

“I must admit, this is not quite what I had in mind when I woke you up tonight.” Iniethe confessed, lost in her own mental brooding as she absentmindedly drew circles on the man’s forearms.

“No?” Ulfric asked with humorous surprise tinting his voice.

“No, I thought you were pissy cause I didn’t buy that house. That’s why I came here. To annoy your steward until he sold me the accursed thing so I could shove the papers in your face to get you off my back.” Iniethe turned in the Jarl’s arms, looking at him in annoyance to mask her wariness.

"Ohoo, did you now?" Ulfric chuckled with eyes sparkling with mirth as his arms pulled her closer in his embrace, cupping her behind firmly.

"Yes." Iniethe answered without a moment’s hesitation, shooting the gleeful man a dirty look.

"You really bought a house... in the middle of the night... _just_ to get me off your back?" Ulfric was still smirking but something seemed to be dawning on him.

"Yes!" The mer answered in exasperation clasping one hand firmly over her eyes as she realized herself how ludicrous it sounded. This man really did drive her up the walls and now she was being an idiot too.

“You didn’t read the first message, did you?” Ulfric sighed, gave her a warm smile and shook his head at her.

“What message?” and at the sight of the elf’s bewildered expression he broke out laughing. Iniethe sulked at that which only served to make the man laugh even harder, until she threatened to hit him over the head with the nearest hard object. He collected himself with some effort, remembering that the elf had a mean right hook if her brawling-partners bruises were to be believed.

“Take another good look at that axe I gave you when you get the chance.” he said teasingly, still sporting a huge grin as he leaned in to capture the grumpy elf’s lips with his in a soft outdrawn kiss. Before long she could feel the heat rising between them and broke off the kiss before they did something they would eventually regret.

“I need to go.” she said, schooling her features back into that careful mask of utter neutrality to hide her confusion. She needed to get out of here, to think and dissect this entire absurd situation. She hated being blindsided!

Ulfric reluctantly let her go after steeling one last kiss and as she donned her ebony armor, he washed and dressed.

She hesitated with her hand on the door and stole one last perplexed look at the man with the golden hair and beard, fair skin and pale storm-blue eyes. The man who had her brain in a confused uproar.

He had started to warm up to her after she raided the Thalmor Embassy in search for the culprit responsible for raising all the accursed dragons who so loved to dog her every move. She didn’t find exactly what she was looking for but she did scoop up everything else she found - including a panicked bosmer and tortured human thief - and she killed a few dozen or so more Thalmor than was strictly necessary to boot. Out of pure spite. Then she went straight to Windhelm to hand over the dossier she’d found on Ulfric, before it fell into the wrong hands, as well as all the information about the Thalmor’s plans to let the civil war tear Skyrim to pieces before moving in for the kill. Ulfric had been suspicious, prodding her about how she had gotten her hands on the dossier and the information until she told him to shove off and stormed out.

When she had returned with Galmar from Korvanjund he had apologized. Said word had reached his ear about her brutal escapades in the Thalmor Embassy and that he was sorry for his suspicions. She didn’t really think his suspicion had been unwarranted though, even if it had been annoying and the whole ordeal had turned rather awkward. After that he was always more respectful and often even somewhat thankful for her service but he was also very grumpy and short with her.

Then the civil war began with the battle for Whiterun, followed by the liberation of Falkreath Hold, the Reach and now lastly the battle for Hjaalmarch. And with every battle he praised her louder but his words didn't match the ire she sensed from him. Or so she had thought anyway.

Somewhere along the line she must have impressed the grumpy Jarl something fierce since he so nonchalantly turned his back to her now as he washed and dressed after a night’s passionate tumbling around in bed with her.

Ulfric looked up from his grooming, interrupting the mer’s confused pondering with a warm slightly mischievous smile and watched her features morph into a scowl before she quickly turned to slide quietly out the door.

\--

Back at the Candleheart Hall Iniethe examined the axe she’d gotten from Ulfric and just as he implied, she found a message on it, wrapped inconspicuously around the handle. She unwrapped it, threw the axe on her rented bed and read it with a rising feeling of something akin to dread.

 

_“You fight like a Nord, drink like a Nord and even talk like a Nord, but you are undoubtedly an elf. One I have been trying to figure out since you stormed into my hall demanding to join our cause, but I still have no answer. So how does one go about wooing someone like you?_

_I might be out of line but I’m sick of dancing around the issue pretending I know what I’m doing._

_I need to see you, in private._

 

_/Ulfric"_

 

She suddenly felt the need to sit down as her entire world seemed to tilt on its axis and the only thing she could think was;

_“Practical my ass!”_


End file.
